


Chosen

by Insuffer6la (CrimsonShades)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Daddy Issues, M/M, Run-On Sentences, royalstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 04:39:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11223507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonShades/pseuds/Insuffer6la
Summary: Despite his best efforts, Kankri has found himself chosen and ponders the implications.It's more like a rant than a coherent story, really.





	Chosen

**Author's Note:**

> I generally like developing settings a lot more than plot, though in the best cases, that goes hand in hand.  
> Alternative title: "Kankri has daddy issues".

He chose you.  
But that's ridiculous, nobody chose you, not even your parents. They were stuck with you, but were perfectly happy to focus their attention on your younger brother, as soon as he came into existence. You acted like you didn't hear it when your father complained under his breath to your grandmother, his adoptive mother, without whom he wouldn't even have ascended to his current status, you're sure, that she'd spoiled you rotten when you were but a child. But you knew how he felt and it stung.   
Perhaps subconsciously, you desired to make others feel unwanted as well, so you made sure to be as unpleasant as possible to Meulin, your not-quite sister, and perhaps a lot harsher to Karkat than necessary, as a result. It didn't strike you as very surprising when you found yourself the bottom of the social barrel in your group of royal offspring. You were twelve, each with a confusing set of roots and interweaved family trees that made the bloodlines gradually more difficult to distinguish. Meulin was your sister by marriage of your father to her mother, with Nepeta and Karkat being their children. You felt as though they were a lot more wanted than you, too. Your grandmother tried to comfort you by saying that your father didn't mean to be rude to you. But you reminded him of your mother, who had died in labour. And despite all the spur and neglect, she assured, you were the heir of the Vantas bloodline.  
But that was part of the problem, wasn't it?  
The kingdom your father called his own wasn't really that, a few patches of land at best, that he'd inherited from his adoptive mother, the Dolorosa, as she was frequently called and later split about a quarter off to give back to the Maryams, when Porrim and Kanaya, two long-lost princesses resurfaced. It was a complicated story. Your father encouraged you to call them cousins.  
You'd much rather call them nosy and smothering.  
Especially Porrim, who, with Meulin, was in that circle of royal children you had been squeezed into. You were all roughly the same age, with you being the youngest. You didn't particularly care for any of them and you were sure to let them know at each and every of those childish little get-togethers your parents insisted that you held regularly.  
To make it easier to tie bonds between kingdoms, your father found.  
To pawn you off to another royal child, more like.  
The oldest of the group were coming „of age“ which was a euphemism for „find someone to marry and produce some healthy offspring with to propel the bloodline“ and quite literally got to pick members from your royal age group, like you were nothing but fruit. A tasteless custom, you found. Of course, it always came with a considerable amount of negotiations between parents, usually before the royal spouse in the making would even be informed.  
Your father knew who you were going to marry before you did. What an awful thought.  
You had been surprised to hear that you had been chosen at all, after all, you always made an effort to let the others know that you did not care for them in the slightest. Standing up straight as you corrected them, a haughty air around you and your eyes closed most of the time, and not solely to obscur your red eyes that you hated, because they were the same color as your father's.  
Porrim and Meulin didn't seem to mind, but perhaps it was because they were extended family and didn't have a choice. Most of the other heirs ignored you, except for the one who always came back and watched the movements of your lips when you spoke.  
The one who sent shivers down your spine when you felt the gaze of his hungry, violet eyes trail up and down your form and who made things you didn't know could quiver when he conveniently forgot your boundaries and invaded your private space with an arm curled around your by then trembling shoulders. The sleazy flirt whose soft-looking lips haunted your dreams with a desire to seal shut with your own and if only, as you would constantly assure yourself, to shut him up.  
The second oldest, who towered above you and made you livid and yet didn't when he smiled so smugly down at you as if he caught you wondering why he would keep coming back, even when you spat even more venom, to spite him, to drive him away, with the intent to hurt him, for making you suffer with the desperation only a teenage body could feel.   
For being so desperate and as deprived as you. And for always coming back, despite all that, to haunt you.  
He didn't even look half bad, you begrudgingly admitted to Porrim at some point, which was met with a chuckle. The next day, you spotted a picture of the two of you on the wall of Meulin's room, with a bright red heart above your heads. You felt your ears grow hot whenever you walked past it since.  
Still, it was difficult to tell how you felt about him.  
He could infuriate you like few others and certainly loved to make use of that rare gift, while he remained impenetrable. A greasy enigma. His scars, the one on his forehead, that you dreamed to trail your fingers over while he told you the surely fake story behind them, his eyes that you could drown in, his body that made yours ache with embarrassing need.  
But now, after hearing the news that your weird, queasy crush was somehow reciprocated, that someone did actually want to put up with you, and be it out of pure desperation, that you might not have to die alone after all, you felt weirdly grateful.  
He chose you.  
Cronus Ampora chose you. To share his life with.  
And for as cheesy as it sounded, you had to admit.  
You couldn't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wrote this in one fluid go at work, out of sheer boredom, but just perhaps, the rant-y structure of the whole thing fits Kankri.


End file.
